Food salted; they trim galley crimson prow'd
Have ne'er beheld, nor yet smooth-shaven oar,
With which the vessel wing'd scuds o'er the waves.
Well thou shalt know them; this shall be the sign—
When thou shalt meet a trav'ler, who shall name 155
The oar on thy broad shoulder borne, a [1]van,
There, deep infixing it within the soil,
Worship the King of Ocean with a bull,
A ram, and a lascivious boar, then seek
Thy home again, and sacrifice at home 160
An hecatomb to the Immortal Gods,
Adoring each duly, and in his course.
So shalt thou die in peace a gentle death,
Remote from Ocean; it shall find thee late,
In soft serenity of age, the Chief 165
Of a blest people.—I have told thee truth.
He spake, to whom I answer thus return'd.
Tiresias! thou, I doubt not, hast reveal'd
The ordinance of heav'n. But tell me, Seer!
And truly. I behold my mother's shade; 170
Silent she sits beside the blood, nor word
Nor even look vouchsafes to her own son.
How shall she learn, prophet, that I am her's?
So I, to whom Tiresias quick replied.
The course is easy. Learn it, taught by me. 175
What shade soe'er, by leave of thee obtain'd,
- ↑ Mistaking the oar for a corn-van. A sure indication of his ignorance of maritime concerns.
Shall
